


stirs of whispers trail and linger

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Gen, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, POV Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Team as Family, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, i love aunt may i promise but i love this trope a little more, no beta we die like men, the muse wants what the muse wants, whoops don't mind me switching fandoms oops, will update tags as i go cause hah i'm cat lasering this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 09:45:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18808663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There’s the sound of shuffling again, and an infinitely patient call of Peter's name on the other end before the audio clears up again. The first thing he’s doing once he gets back in his lab is improving the microphone on Peter’s damn phone.“Pete? Is that you?”“Uh, hey Mr. Stark,” he replies. There’s a bit of sniffling and a shaky breath. “Aunt May is… she’s…. um…” Peter’s voice cracks, a whimper followed closely behind. Tony presses harder on the gas, the engine revving.“Hey, hey, you can tell me when I get there. I’ll be there in ten minutes, okay? Ten minutes. Just hang on, buddy.”Or,Tony upholds a promise





	1. you still haunt the corner of my eye

It’s just another Tuesday night.

Tony sits in his lab, as per usual, AC/DC blasting and DUM-E hovering incessantly, little beeps of concern every time he sticks his hand inside the wiring. He’s doing some routine maintenance for Rhodey’s suit and buffing out any of the scratches from his last couple of missions or so. It’s busy work, hardly intellectually stimulating, but it keeps him busy until Peter visits tomorrow to work on his new suit. 

He may be semi-retired himself, but that doesn’t stop him from throwing himself elbows deep into Rhodey’s suit, or meticulously running simulations on new possible materials for Peter’s until he’s sure that the kid could survive a fall from the top of the Chrysler Building. Again.

(It’s no wonder he’s almost fully grey now. He’s not sure how his heart hasn’t fully given out yet either.)

The entire Tower is quiet tonight—most of the Avengers are out destroying some enemy base or whatever, Pepper’s striking deals in Japan, and Rhodey’s stuck in Washington thanks to bad weather. It’s not often this way, and he’s taking full advantage of the ability to work uninterrupted. Or, he would be, if he  _ had _ anything to work on that he hadn’t promised that a certain spider-kid could help him with. 

“DUM-E, if you come any closer with that extinguisher I’m going to donate you to a community college. And I mean it this time!” The usual empty threat falls from his lips as the robot wanders a little too close for comfort with the red, pressurized can that has ruined too many of his projects, only to beep and roll away. “Be nice. Go back to your charging station.” DUM-E lets out a long, indignant beep, but does as he’s told. Tony only sighs in fond exasperation. 

“Boss, you have an incoming call from Peter Parker,” FRIDAY calls, the music fading out.

There are only a few rules he holds himself to now—keep Pepper happy, no declining calls from Peter, and no more than eighteen hours at a time in the lab. Well, maybe twenty-four, if Pepper’s away on business. After that, he gets kicked out of his own lab. By his own AI. 

Maybe he should’ve thought a little longer about allowing Pepper to make protocols for FRIDAY. 

He hums his assent, “Put him through.”

The audio changes. Tony can make out the distant sound of busy noise in the background—pattering feet and far-away conversations. He glances at the clock, which glaringly reads 11:38.  Not worryingly late, and Peter’s known for his late night scientific epiphanies, but that still doesn’t explain the noise. He should definitely be at home. 

“Hey, kiddo. I thought teens were supposed to get eight to ten hours of sleep,” He quips, hiding the worry as he closes the panel on the left boot thruster and stands up, grabbing a random hand towel to wipe the muck off his hands. Something had gone funky with them last time, and FRIDAY’s diagnostics report hadn’t told him much more than what he’d assumed. 

Tony’s brow furrows when there’s no answer, just the sound of heavy breathing. “Pete? Are you alright?” Now he’s concerned, and his motions quicken as he moves to shut down the lab for the night. “Peter?”

“Please come get me,” Peter asks, voice small and crackly through the sound audio. 

He flips the lights off in the lab and taps his earpiece, the call filtering through it as he makes his way towards the garage. “Where are you? What’s going on?” He asks, slipping into the first car and jetting out. “FRIDAY, give me his location and vitals.” 

“Mr. Parker is currently located on the first floor of  NewYork-Presbyterian Queens. His heart rate is elevated and he appears to be mildly dehydrated.”

The phone shuffles on the other end, and the audio is muted, but he hears it clear as day. “Peter? May I speak with them?” The phone shuffles again and the audio is clear again. “Hello, may I ask who this is?”

“Tony Stark. What’s wrong with Peter?”

There’s a beat of silence. “Good evening, Mr. Stark. My name is Laura Delancey and I work for the Department of Social Services. Will you be able to make it here tonight?”

Annoyance flashes through him at the question, though he won’t realize the validity of it until later. The wave of concern rises. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. What’s wrong with Peter?”

“I’m afraid I cannot disclose that information over the pho—”

There’s the sound of shuffling again, and an infinitely patient call of Peter’s name on the other end before the audio clears up again. The first thing he’s doing once he gets back in his lab is improving the microphone on Peter’s damn phone. 

“Pete? Is that you?”

“Uh, hey Mr. Stark,” he replies. There’s a bit of sniffling and a shaky breath. “Aunt May is… she’s…. um…” Peter’s voice cracks, a whimper followed closely behind. Tony presses harder on the gas, the engine revving.

“Hey, hey, you can tell me when I get there. I’ll be there in ten minutes, okay? Ten minutes. Just hang on, buddy.” 

The streets are never dead in New York, but they’re slow enough that he’s easily twenty over the speed limit. It doesn’t matter.  _ Peter _ matters. He’ll take a thousand speeding tickets if it gets him one second closer to Peter. 

There’s silence on the other end of the line until he drifts into a parking spot and runs into the ER, where FRIDAY tells him Peter is. The bright lights and the strong scent of antisceptic make his head spin as he sprints past the receptionist, who lets out an indignant shout as he does. He pays her no mind, following FRIDAY’s directions in his ear until he spots the familiar head of curls sitting on a scratchy, wood-framed couch. His shoes squeak as he skids to a stop along the pristine tile. 

He doesn’t notice the brunette until she addresses him, “Thank you for coming so quickly, Mr. Stark. I understand that you’re a busy man.”

Her words filter in through one ear and out the other as he stops in front of Peter, who’s leaning his head against the back couch cushion, curled up sideways. His eyes are completely bloodshot. Tony combs his fingers through Peter’s hair, only addressing her after his eyes shutter closed and his tensed shoulders fall. 

“Ms. Delancey, I presume? What’s going on?” He demands, voice soft as not to disturb his mentee. 

“Why don’t we step away for a moment?” She asks instead, a kind but strained smile on her face. He reminds himself that she’s only doing her job, even as Peter makes a small, pained noise when Tony removes his hand from his hair. 

Tony doesn’t answer, only squats until he’s eye level with Peter regardless of the pain in his knees as he does. “Hey Petey, I’m just gonna step out for a minute to talk with Ms. Delancey. I’ll be right around the corner if you need me, okay?”

Peter doesn’t open his eyes, only giving a small nod of recognition. Tony reels in the sigh and squeezes his shoulder once before standing and following Lori, or whatever her first name is. Lori? Laura? Lauren?

The social worker guides him down the hall into a small office, which is only a small reprieve from the piercing scent of the antiseptic outside. “I’d like to thank you again for your promptness. May I inquire about your relationship with Peter?”

“I’m his mentor. He’s my intern.” He tells her, shifting his weight repeatedly between his two feet. He can’t sit still until he knows exactly what’s going on and how he can fix it. He needs to fix it. 

She nods solemnly, “I’m afraid to inform you that Peter’s guardian, May Parker, suffered a heart attack and passed away today. As you know, Peter is a minor. As such, an adult must be present to act for him in order to proceed with arrangements.”  
Tony isn’t sure that his heart doesn’t stop right there on the spot. 

His last conversation with May, from only two weeks ago, rewinds rapidly in his head, the silent plea on her face as she commanded him to keep her nephew safe, always. Peter had broken a two of his ribs after falling due to some fault in his webshooters. 

It hadn’t been anything particularly serious—the kid was back to webslinging barely two days later, despite Tony and May’s better judgment—but he’d spent all night double and triple-checking those webshooters to find the small, miniscule fault that had caused the kid to go crashing to the ground. 

_ Not even a question, May. You know I’d do anything for the kid.  _

She’d seemed relieved at that, had given him a tentative smile as she and Peter had left the Tower the next day. The two of them, historically, had never seen eye-to-eye on what exactly entailed protecting Peter, and yet it had seemed that they had finally come to a mutual understanding—that Peter wasn’t going to stop, not even for his aunt, and that Tony was best equipped to keep him safe if he was going to continue webslinging around Queens.   

It appeared that Tony would never get to know now whether he was right.

“—arrangements made for Peter. Until Mrs. Parker’s will can be read, he has no immediate family in the area. There is a lovely fos—” 

“He’ll stay with me.”

There’s no other option. He’d never send Peter away, under any circumstances, and the promise he’d made rings in his ears. He doesn’t know who May has put Peter in the care of in case of her… passing, but until that can be determined, Tony will be damned if he stays anywhere else but with him. 

Ms. Delancey blinks once, then twice. “While the sentiment is appreciated, Mr. Stark, I’m afraid it’s not quite that simple—”

“Then I’ll simplify it, “ he snips. “Give me two minutes to call my lawyer.”  

The woman purses her lips, obviously displeased, but nods her head. “Very well. There is still some paperwork to be done. However, if you’d like to be with Peter now, I can bring it to you once it’s drawn up.”

He barely gives her a nod before he’s out of the stuffy office and back over to Peter, who doesn’t even lift his head as Tony approaches. He sits on the other side of the small couch and tugs on Peter’s shoulder, who lets himself be maneuvered until he’s lying with his head in Tony’s lap. Tony uses one hand to comb through the boy’s hair and the other to tap his earpiece, “FRIDAY, call Pepper for me. Push the call through if she’s not busy.” FRIDAY doesn’t bother to answer him, and it only takes four rings for his call to go through. 

“Hey Tony,” Pepper starts, “why are you calling at midnight? Is everything okay?”

Instantaneously, he relaxes at the sound of her voice. He didn’t know how he had ever survived all those months without her. “I need you to call a custody lawyer. The best one on the east coast.”

There’s a couple of moments of stunned silence on the other end. “Tony…”

He glances down at Peter, who appears to be asleep. He checks in with FRIDAY, just to make sure before he answers the unspoken question. “It’s for Peter. May... died. She was it.”

A long, slow breath—Pepper had never met the woman, and she’d only met Peter a couple of times in passing, but she knows how much he means to Tony if only based off the way he talked about his mentee. “Alright, I’ll work as fast as I can. Do you need me to come home?”

“No,” he immediately answers, “no, I got it over here. I just need you to work your magic, you’ve been planning this trip for months.” 

A little hum, “Okay. I’ll text you once I’m done. Take care of Peter and yourself, I’ll be home next week. Love you.”

“Love you too,” he murmurs right as she hangs up. 

Tony leans his head back against the cushion behind him, a heavy sigh escaping as he pulls off his earpiece to shove into his pocket. All that matters is the teen in his lap—the rest of the world can wait a couple of hours. 

He lifts his head and tilts it to look at Peter, who looks even younger asleep. His eyes close of their own accord.

“I’m so sorry, Pete… I’m so sorry.” 


	2. i just want to make it vanish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit. Tony couldn’t do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who just went on a manic writing binge? me. guess who didn't do any of her homework? ...also me. i'm gonna go do that now. ummm, no promises for next chapter... updates will probably be sporadic. sorryyy.
> 
> please enjoy!!

Tony’s filling out paperwork with a pen that keeps running out of ink when Peter stirs.

He’s mumbling profanities under his breath as he shakes the pen aggressively, attempting to get the ink to run again or he is going to put on his goddamn gauntlet and light a fire underneath it  _ so help him, God—  _

“M’sr St’rk?”

The red fades from the corner of his vision as Tony sets the clipboard down, eyes settling on the half-awake spider-kid in his lap. 

A deep breath, “Hey, kiddo. How’re you holding up?”

Peter blinks twice before his whole expression wipes away, eyes watering. He turns his head further into Tony’s lap. The older man sets a hand on his shoulder, leaning down to talk quietly in his ear. 

“I know it hurts, buddy. But you have to let it. You have to.”

There’s a whimper of pain, and Peter turns his head to look up at Tony. He thinks his heart snaps in half again as he brushes the curls out of Peter’s eyes, big and wide and too trusting—pleading with him to make everything okay, because wasn’t it Tony’s job to  _ fix  _ things?

Tony’s not sure when the kid made his way into his heart—the small corner that had previously only held Pepper and Rhodey and Happy, only that he’s firmly entrenched there. Nothing proves that more than the pain that radiates through his own chest when he looks at him.

Peter turns over and wraps his arms around Tony’s waist, shoulders beginning to shake as the tears fall. All Tony can do is run his hands through Peter’s hair and wish he could fix this mess, the pain that echoes through him.

But nothing hurts more than the silence. 

For all the crying, Peter barely makes a sound. Tony’s held him when he’s cried before, after nightmares—wheezing, hysterical crying where all he could do was promise that it’d be better in the morning. Peter was never quiet. He was loud and bright and better than all of them combined, exuberant and ready to take on the world at any given moment.

Tony’s watch buzzes on his wrist, and the annoyance is only there for a moment. FRIDAY knows better than to filter through anything unimportant right now, so he takes a moment to flip his wrist up and project the text in the air. 

It’s from Nat.

_ FRIDAY won’t tell us where you’ve gone. Call when you can. _

Right. The team. They’d ask questions, no doubt, and it’d be useful to recruit one of them to help him out. They were living in his tower, after all. 

“Ask her to get the spare quarters ready and for one of them to bring me a change of clothes. And my sunglasses, the blue ones on my bedside. And a new pen.”

The AI doesn’t respond, only switches the hologram over. It’s a text from Pepper, this time, telling him that the custody lawyer should be there within the hour. He opens his mouth to tell FRIDAY to reply when— 

“What’s gonna happen to me?”

Tony’s focus recenters on Peter, whose eyes are bloodshot and puffy, but filled with worry. “You’re gonna stay with me for a while,” Tony murmurs, brushing an errant strand of hair behind Peter’s ear. “Don’t worry about  _ anything _ . I’ll take care of it. Worry about yourself.”

Peter nods and turns his head away, nose digging into Tony’s stomach as he squeezes his eyes shut. Tony doesn’t notice the tapping on the small of his back for a few moments, and it takes him a minute to figure out what it is.

_ Thank you _ .

Tony only bites the inside of his cheek and taps out  _ Of course _ on the kid’s shoulder, followed repeatedly by  _ Sleep _ . He doesn’t stop until Peter’s breathing evens out and the tension from his shoulders fall. And even then, he doesn’t check his watch no matter how many times it buzzes, nor does he pick up the unfinished paperwork. 

Fifteen minutes, half an hour passes before a figure stops in front of him. Tony glances up at the figure, eyes meeting with a young woman he doesn’t know. She extends a hand, “Alyssa Schilz. Mrs. Stark told me it was urgent.” 

Tony gives her a weary nod, doesn’t bother to correct her that he and Pepper are still engaged, and shakes her hand. “Tell me what I have to sign, I don’t care what it is. There’s no way Peter’s leaving here with anyone but me.”

“Temporary guardianship is easy enough, Mr. Stark. Are you looking at adoption as well?” 

The question is innocent enough, logical, but it still makes him freeze. 

Tony was not Peter’s father. He wasn’t even a parental figure. His own affections for the spider-kid didn’t matter, not as long as Howard loomed over his shoulder and laughed at him. Even now, with his heart set on bringing Peter back with him to the Tower, he could feel the distant stare of Howard. 

He shakes his head, “Not right at this moment. I’d… I’d have to talk to the kid, and he’s in no shape for that kind of conversation.”

Alyssa nods and sets down her bag, pulling a folder and a pen out of it. “Sign these. I’ll have a discussion with Ms. Delancey while you do.”

Tony, too tired to care about his aversion to being handed things, takes the folder and the fountain pen from her, grabbing the abandoned clipboard and scribbling his signature at the bottom of each page. He doesn't bother to read the paperwork—it won’t change his mind, and this wasn’t a negotiable business contract. It was temporary custody of a minor. A child. Peter was a child.

Holy shit. Tony couldn’t do this. 

He was hardly equipped, and far from qualified. He couldn’t keep _ himself  _ to healthy habits, how was he supposed to instill them in Peter? He was just supposed to be some sort of quirky, cool uncle-figure who let him play with technology and occasionally kept him out of trouble. Not a parent. Not a guardian. Not someone with actual influence on the kid’s life.

“—ny. Tony. Look at me.”

He doesn’t realize he’s hyperventilating until he looks up and sees Natasha, face seemingly neutral but sketched with concern. “Breathe, Tony. You’re okay.”

“I can’t do this Nat,” he mumbles, hands shaking as she pulls the clipboard from his hand and sets the high tech sunglasses on his face, FRIDAY’s displays appearing in a soft, blue wash of color. It’s hard to miss his own EKG in the corner—too fast to be healthy.  

“That’s a lie. You’ll figure it out,” she replies, turning the clipboard towards herself and forging his signature at the bottom of the pages for him. “I brought clothes for you, by the way, and one of those pens that you keep on the desk that you don’t use. Bruce is getting the quarters ready and I’m keeping anyone from asking too many questions.” 

“Thanks, Romanoff,” He mutters, starting to run his fingers through Peter’s hair again. 

The sound of the pen stops, and he glances back up at her. “This the kid?”

Tony nods, “Yeah. Peter Parker.”

She only nods her head and continues writing again. Finally, she hands the clipboard and new pen back to him. “I filled out all of the custody paperwork and anywhere that asked for your signature.” 

Natasha sets a hand on Tony’s shoulder for a moment before she walks away, the sound of her boots slapping against the tile fading as she leaves. Tony fills out anywhere that Nat missed, which—unsurprisingly—wasn’t much, knowing that it’s her way of telling him to take care of himself. A glance at the clock tells him that’s it nearly three in the morning, and as much as he hates to admit it, his back is starting to ache from sitting there. 

Tony gently shakes Peter awake, only enough for him to blink blearily at him in half-consciousness. “Hey Pete, I’m just gonna get up and go talk with Ms. Delancey, alright?” He takes off his glasses and sets them on the table, “Just put those on and have FRIDAY call me if you need anything. I won’t be far.”

Peter mumbles something about orange juice—Christ, when was the last time the kid ate?—and lifts his head long enough for Tony to stand up, flopping back down and falling asleep as soon as he’s standing. Tony sighs and brushes his fingers through Peter’s hair one last time before grabbing the custody paperwork and making his way down to Delancey’s office, not bothering to knock before waltzing in.   

“Mr. Stark, we were just finishing up here,” Alyssa speaks. He notes the slight red tinge of Laura’s (at least, that’s what her nameplate read) face as the lawyer stands up, straightening out her blazer. He hands her the paperwork, which she slides over to the social worker. “We’ll be in touch, Ms. Delancey. Thank you for your time.”

Tony follows the impressive, if not slightly intimidating, young lawyer out the office only moments after he’s entered it, an eyebrow quirked. “As with any case like this, Social Services will be making routine visits, planned and unplanned, to make sure that Peter’s adjusting properly,” Alyssa speaks. She pulls a business card out of her pocket and scribbles something on the back of it before handing it to him. He hesitates to take it only for a moment before he does. “That’s my personal number. If it’s urgent, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you, Alyssa,” He says. And he means it—any lawyer who’s willing to show up for a new client, even one like him, at odd hours of the night earns a check in his book. She lets a small smile past her professional facade and walks away. 

Tony shakes his head and makes his way back to Peter, who’s staring blankly at the ceiling. Concern washes over him again, “Hey Petey. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting a bit tired of these white walls. Would you be okay heading back to the Tower?”

Peter’s eyes flicker over to him and he’s… present, but barely so. There’s an obvious glaze over his eyes as he nods his assent, though doesn’t move. Tony holds in the sigh.

“I’m gonna change real fast, and then we’ll head out, alright?”

Peter nods again, and Tony holds to his word, changing out of the dirty, grease-stained clothes he usually reserves for the lab as quickly as possible for a pair of worn jeans and a Black Sabbath t-shirt. How Nat knew that was what he needed, he’ll never know, but he feels more comfortable the moment he puts the ensemble on. 

Once Tony emerges again, he’s nearly tackled to the ground by one Peter Parker, who wraps himself around Tony and digs his  _ freezing _ nose into the man’s collarbone. It shouldn’t be awkward, considering the amount of close contact the two had been in these past couple hours, but it doesn’t stop Tony from freezing up for a moment before hesitantly wrapping his arms back around him. 

The silence from Peter still bothers him, but the rhythm of him tapping  _ thank you _ repeatedly against his back tampers it for a bit. He pats Peter’s back twice before pulling away, “Let’s split this joint. I don’t know about you, but I’d kill for a cheeseburger right about now.” 

The fact that his statement doesn’t even get a smile concerns him, but he forces a smile on his face for Peter as he leads him out of the hospital. 

He drives slow once they’re in the car, despite the fact that it’s three-thirty in the morning and the roads are as dead as New York roads can be. Peter stares out the window, legs curled up and chin resting on his knees. 

“Are you hungry?” Tony asks, praying to whatever deity will answer him that Peter will say yas. His heart constricts when he shakes his head no. 

Tony drives straight for the Tower, essentially holding Peter upright as they wait for the elevator to take them up to the residences. Luckily, there are no Avengers in the living room, undoubtedly thanks to either Natasha or FRIDAY, as he leads him to the spare quarter across from his own. He only bothers to flick on half the lights as he leads Peter over to the bed. 

Peter climbs in, still silent, a burrows underneath the covers, barely visible except for the top of his nose, eyes, and nest of hair. A soft smile makes its way onto Tony’s face as he brushes away some of the curls. “Get some rest. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

Tony doesn’t let the tears fall until he’s in his own bed. 

**Author's Note:**

> do i know where this is going? nope. do i know if this is actually gonna get updated? nope.
> 
> as far as this fic is concerned, infinity war and endgame never happened and the avengers worked out civil war on their own accord. this takes places roughly eight to nine months after spiderman: homecoming. if the russo brothers can fudge the timeline for the sake of their plot, so can i. 
> 
> (i loved infinity war and endgame i promise i just want this fic to end up happy in the end)
> 
> title from 'echoes of you' by marianas trench
> 
> come harass me on tumblr @feyreofthewildfire


End file.
